"Listen," Emma began, and with that word alone, she was discouraged. Regina wasn't exactly known for her listening skills, but then again, she had to try – "We just need to get some sort of proof that you didn't kill Archie. If we use the dreamcatcher on you, we'll know for sure." Emma offered her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It was hard to know what would get through to Regina, but, she hoped – "I don't want to think that you hurt anyone, Regina. Just…show me I'm right."

"Fine." Regina's tone was confronting, headstrong, even as she agreed to the proposal. Emma was shocked at the concession, but she'd learned long ago to take what she could get with Regina. "I can prove that I'm innocent. I'll show you what I was doing that night," She continued, holding her chin high as she met Emma's eyes. Emma had come to learn that with Regina, that meant she was putting on a mask – projecting the illusion of unbothered confidence rather than acknowledging whatever she perceived as a weakness. "But you're the only one who gets to see it. I don't want your idiot parents digging their dirty little fingers into my mind," She snarled, and Emma rolled her eyes, exasperated.

"They don't…you know what, nevermind." She shook her head, deciding that was a battle better left untouched. It wasn't one that she was likely to win. "We can do it right here, right now, if you want." Regina's eyes darted to the two-way mirror, and Emma added, "Don't worry. They're not out there. I promise."

Regina's eyes narrowed, still locked on the wall as if she was trying to bore through it by sheer force of will. Emma sighed. "Do you trust me, Regina?"

Regina's eyes snapped back to hers immediately. She didn't say anything, though the hard line of her lips faltered, and after several moments she nodded, turning her chair out towards Emma.

"Good," Emma said in reply. She pulled the dreamcatcher from her bag and took the seat in front of Regina. She held it out between them, and then faltered, lowering it so that she could meet the other woman's eyes. She felt the need to acknowledge that Regina was willing to trust her, even if she hadn't voiced it aloud. It was a step in the right direction, and that was something. "Thank you, Regina. This means a lot to me. It'll mean a lot to Henry, that you were willing."

Regina only frowned, and Emma raised the dreamcatcher once more.

Emma closed her eyes, focusing all of her energy on the object, just as Gold had instructed her to do. When she opened them again, yellow light was pouring from it, connecting both Regina's forehead and her own. Images began to form within the circle.

At first, it was just mundane. Regina walking home after her encounter with Archie. Then it was her making dinner and eating it, alone on the couch. Emma had never pictured Regina as the type to allow that, most certainly not for Henry but not for herself, either. Emma felt a flash of guilt at the image. She looked…lonely.

As if to confirm Emma's thoughts, the memory moved on to her pouring a glass of cider – hammering it down, another glass of cider – and it felt wrong to watch her, so vulnerable like that. She'd never exactly been one to share her feelings with Emma, and watching her drink away her feelings didn't exactly feel like a memory Emma was meant to see. But after only the second glass, she finally retreated to her bedroom. A clock on the wall clearly read the time, and it was almost, almost the time of the murder. Emma just needed a little farther, and she pushed forward.

Memory Regina climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. Emma watched as she unbuttoned her shirt, her pants, let them both drop to the floor – her eyes flickered to the real Regina, whose eyes were firmly shut. Emma wondered if she should stop, really, they had enough –

Except, they didn't, not when Regina had magic. Not when the clock was still a half an hour away from their time of death, and Regina could teleport.

And so Emma watched as Dreamcatcher Regina stripped. Her bra and panties followed, and Emma looked away until she drew back her silken covers and slipped beneath them.

And then she thought she was safe – Regina was probably just taking a nap, after all – but then she shifted over, reaching for the drawer to her nightstand. As Emma watched she pulled out something pink –

Emma's eyes snapped to Regina's once more. Real-world Regina, who was now regarding her with a blank expression.

A buzz sounded from the hazy memory, and Emma's breathing quickened. Regina didn't say a word, not even when her memory equivalent let out a low moan.

Emma swallowed. Her eyes darted back towards the memory. She just needed a time, just needed some kind of proof that Regina was otherwise occupied at the time of the murder –

Memory Regina had her head thrown back against the pillows, covers bobbing up and down as she worked the toy against herself beneath them. Emma watched as she caught her lower lip in her teeth, rocked her hips against it –

Emma.

The word – the name – her name, Emma's name, and no, that couldn't be right, could it? – escaped her lips as she came – clearly came, her body jerking, stuttering, her lips parted. And now, finally, finally, the clock on the nightstand proved Regina's innocence, but –

Emma's eyes darted to Regina's. Her mouth had gone dry, eyes wide, and, fuck, there was heat blooming in her abdomen. Heat that she'd definitely felt before, that she'd tried to tamp down at every turn, every argument, but now, now –

Regina only regarded her evenly. Her tone was flat when she spoke.

"Is that proof enough for you, sheriff?"